Not Our Time
by Sammi
Summary: Post- Hit a Sista Back. Max wonders how long she and Logan will have before time finally runs out.


Title: Not Our Time  
  
Author: Sammi  
  
Feedback: carinae@microsith.com or just use that nifty little review box down there. ::points down:: Please don't make me cry! Hehe. =)  
  
Rating: PG  
  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Angel. Dark Angel is the property of 20th Century FOX and Cameron/Eglee Productions. No infrengment is intended, and all that jazz. If I did own Dark Angel... Well, I can't say I would really be doing anything differently. The creators and writers are doing outstanding jobs! I love you all, so don't sue me! =)  
  
Summary: Post- Hit a Sista Back. Max wonders how long she and Logan will have before time finally runs out.  
  
  
Author's Notes: This is my very first actual fanfic, so please be gentle with me.   
I'd like to thank my big sis, and Beta, Cassandra for giving me the confidence to show this to the world, and Suzi, Christina, Anna, Mary, and Becca for... uh, well, for just being Suzi, Christina, Anna, Mary, and Becca.   
Special thanks to Finger Eleven for Tracks 6, 8, 9, and 11 on the "The Greyest of Blue Skies" album, because that is what I was listening to when I was writing this, and The New Amsterdams for the song "Goodbye", which I was listening to while I was typing this baby up. Sad songs really help me with my writing.  
  
Okay, okay, I'm done now! =)  
  
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His words hit home to me.  
  
"Not a second," Charlie said as he turned and walked away.  
  
It was almost like a warning, almost like he was telling Logan and me to cherish our time together, because we never know when it will be over.  
  
But it's not really *our* time, so to speak, I decide as a look over at Logan. He knows it too, I can see it in his eyes. If it was really ours, his hand would be holding mine right now, squeezing it gently as tears threaten to take me over again. Instead, we're just staring awkwardly, lost in independent thought.  
  
It's just time. Mine and his, and it just happens to collide every so often.  
  
I start to move away, not sure where it is I want to go, but I just can't take the silence.  
  
"Hey, Max?" Logan sounds concerned as usual.  
  
I pause, but I don't turn around.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Am I? Every time something like this happens, a family tragedy, I have to re-evaluate my situation. Would Logan be able to tell if I was lying?  
  
"Aren't I always?" is all I say. I don't even wait for a reply, I can't.  
  
Alone used to be good for me, but even the simple elevator ride down back into the world seems cold and bitter. I've never really noticed how small that elevator is until today. Like every inch farther I am from Logan, the more the walls close in. And then when I realize this, it gets even smaller because I get scared. The doors roll open and I stumble out, sweat pouring off of me.  
  
As I push out of the building I see that it's not just the elevator that's gotten smaller, it's the entire city.  
  
In the past twenty-four hours Seattle has become a war zone in my eyes, as if it wasn't before. Every corner I turn could be my last, every person I pass could be my captor.  
  
I am not unstoppable. I am not invincible. Sometimes it seems like it, but then something comes along to remind me that, while I may be revved up, I'm still ultimately mortal.  
  
*They* can have me as easily as Brin or Tinga, because just like with my sisters, they have leverage over me. But do they know that? Does Lydecker know that if it came down to my life or Logan's, that Manticore would have me on a string?  
  
No, he couldn't, or I wouldn't be standing here right now. It really is amazing how time flies when you're stressing, because suddenly I look around me and it's dark. I'm out on the waterfront where I have just said goodbye to Zack early this morning.  
  
"You're smart." I wanted to tell him as we walked away from each other. "Pissing away every chance you'll ever have for real happiness, but at least you're protecting people that could love you in the process."  
  
But I didn't say that. I just stole one last look at him, and he did the same. Then we continued on our separate ways, never sure if it's the last goodbye, or one of many more to come. I know he can't help but blame himself a little for what happened here. Like most guys, he thinks he has to be Mr. Fix-it, and he gets angry when he can't be. I can't help but blame myself a little for it too...  
  
Regrets are for the weak, I tell myself. That, and different variations of the phrase every time. You win some, you lose some.  
  
It never helps. It's almost like a ritual, though. The same with wondering who could be next.  
  
You win some, you lose some.  
  
But the truth is, we've lost a lot more than we've won. I'll keep telling myself that it will get better until all the X5's are lost, until Logan...  
  
How many more blows can I take before my wings finally break, and I crash dive? How many more close calls can I afford? How many more close calls can Logan and I survive?  
  
I mount my bike, and head back to his apartment on impulse. The ride there isn't even enjoyable. Too many thoughts, too much on my shoulders.  
  
And then I am back in the elevator, and it's worse than before. So I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to think.  
  
I go in quietly. If he's awake, I don't know how this will play out, I'm not feeling all too strong...  
But he's sleeping, thank God. Crashed out on the couch, his glasses slid halfway down his nose, crooked.  
  
The look on his face gives me pause. He looks sad, like something is squeezing his heart, crushing it.  
  
My breath catches and I can feel a hairline crack forming in my own heart. When I kneel down beside the sofa and realize there are tears sliding from the corners of his closed eyes, the crack widens, and breaks my heart in two.  
  
What could he be dreaming about? Do I really want to know?  
  
I reach out and gently brush a tear from his cheek with my finger tips. Then I touch his brow, then his lips. I should stop before I wake him, but I can barely resist.  
  
"I will leave you," I whisper. The words are hard to form as they roll painfully off of my tongue.  
  
It's just practice. I know sooner or later I am gonna have to tell him that to his conscious face. I wonder if he'll look anything, then, like he does now.  
  
Maybe that's the cause of the tears. Maybe he already knows what has to happen.  
  
Sometimes I wish I had never met Logan Cale. Sometimes I wish that I could be happy, alone. But the wishes are just fleeting thoughts, because the damage has already been done.   
  
The fact is that we did meet, and I fell. He must have too, and now he's the reason I stay. Because suddenly staying doesn't seem half as hazardous to my health as a day without Logan.  
  
I tense as he shifts positions, but he never opens his eyes. Time to go, but I think I'll take the stairs this time.  
  
The idea of severing all contact with the human race, and making a run for the border is becoming a bigger possibility with every strike Manticore makes against me, against us. Solitude may seem like a selfish notion to some, but not in this case. I can see myself in Tinga's place, and Logan in Charlie's. One last kiss goodbye, and then I'm dragged back to that hell. Would they let him live?  
  
Probably not. So why not do it on my own terms? Nothing shed but tears. Nothing broken but hearts.  
  
A sigh escapes me on the way to the door. I turn around, and once again I say it.  
  
"I will leave you."  
  
It hurts just as bad this time, if not worse. But sometimes the truth hurts.  
  
It will happen, for him. For Logan's sake. It's only a matter of time before my sticking around puts him in danger. But for now I'll enjoy my time, and Logan's, whenever it happens to collide.  
  
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Fin.  
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End file.
